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While it may not make the best cocktail party conversation starter, if you’ve ever suffered from a bout of constipation, you know how uncomfortable and frustrating it can be, and how welcome effective solutions are.

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Many factors can influence bowel function beyond diet and exercise, including: hormonal fluctuations (pregnancy/menopause/underactive thyroid), stress and medication.  And while there is no one size fits all when it comes to addressing bowel concerns, (particular conditions may require specific protocols), here are a few strategies I have found particularly helpful for easing constipation and restoring regularity: …

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The great disappearing month of December.  No sooner do we turn the corner on November and it’s gone.  Just like that, a new year upon us.

Amidst the busyness of the season, and all that it can represent for each of us, I wanted to share this short clip written and read by my youngest son.

He prepared it for his acting troupe to help them relax and refocus before their most recent performance.  I found out about it quite by accident (the way Moms of sons sometimes do); he was running unusually early for rehearsal (typically an unrushed soul) so I asked what was up and he casually mentioned that he needed to get himself settled to lead a meditation before opening night.  Then he pulled out a piece of paper with his handwritten words and read it to me in the car.  When he was done, he slowly looked over at me and asked me what I thought.  Dear precious son of mine, the parenting journey will involve many moments, some of them tougher than others, but these are the ones you’ll hold onto with both hands and feet and carry with you til the end. What do I think? I think I love you to the moon, beyond and back again. 

With his permission, I’m sharing his guided meditation with you today (which he recorded for you) – maybe it will bring a smile to your day and maybe even a moment of peace.  I know I’ve listened to it a few times.

Blessings to All.

Don’t you know yet? It is your light that lights the world ~ Rumi

 

photo courtesy of Li Dingzeyu

Earlier this year, a remarkable woman reminded me of the importance of creating a space on the blog for personal stories — themes that might impact us directly or remind us of a friend or family member going through a similar trial.  My hope is that these features will provide some comfort and insight to help us navigate our own challenges or offer a fresh perspective from which to understand those of others. Most of all, I hope they remind us that we are not alone.

Today’s lovable, sharp-witted and deeply human post is written by Lisa Goldman — a Mom of two and fitness enthusiast who was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer in 2014 at the age of 41. 

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There’s a book titled “Cancer Made Me a Shallower Person” I haven’t read it, but the title made me laugh. Sometimes having cancer makes me have very deep thoughts about the purpose of life and what comes after, yada yada yada. But, almost as often it hasn’t. I still snap at my family members when I shouldn’t, I still curse under my breath in traffic, and most annoyingly, I still struggle with my weight and body image.

Like most women raised in this country, I have fallen victim to equating a significant part of my self-worth to my physical appearance and size. A fit athlete from childhood, I was never really overweight, yet I started dieting in earnest by high school. College took a toll, with the predictable “freshman 15,” which I mostly recovered from just in time for the “junior year abroad 20,” which I also eventually recovered from. I am not a naturally lean person, I have a more curvy shape. I clearly come from shtetl stock, built to withstand famine and nurse a gaggle of children. Almost all the women in my family have struggled with obesity (with the exception of my mother, who’s tall and thin, of course, because God’s a freaking comedian). Yet, between a combination of eating a mostly healthy diet, and exercising rigorously almost every day, my body came to a reasonable set point.

Some people call me brave for facing cancer. That’s not brave, I didn’t have a choice. This is brave: I’m about to post my weight on a public blog. My set point for adulthood, prior to my cancer diagnosis, was between 145-150 lbs (I’m about 5’4”). Of course, I always wanted to lose 5 or 10 lbs., and on occasion, if I spent months tracking every morsel I ate, I could get down to about 140, but I hadn’t seen anything much lower than that since I wore my size 4 wedding dress in 1997. 150 was kind of my “red line,” anything much beyond that and clothes wouldn’t feel comfortable. A few days of cautious eating and I could easily get back into my comfort range. My body just wanted to be in that 145-150 range (and there’s a fair amount of evidence that set points are real). Medical charts would tell me that 150 was barely acceptable, flirting with the “overweight” zone, but the truth was, I was quite healthy there, an easy size 8, teaching 5+ indoor cycle classes a week, as well as yoga, pilates and strength training.

And then came cancer. The weight roller coaster ride I’ve been on makes previous see-saws look tame. Some people lose weight when they have cancer, but not this balabusta. Even 8 months of chemo barely budged the scale, but when I switched to my targeted drug, Xalkori, the fun began in earnest. Weight gain is a known side effect of Xalkori, but I didn’t experience that initially. Instead, I went through months of nausea hell, vomiting many times a week (much more than chemo). The oncologist got concerned when, after about 6 months on Xalkori, my weight plummeted to 129. Yikes. It was scary, because even though I was enjoying sliding into my skinny jeans, dramatic weight loss for cancer patients can be a very bad thing.

Since I don’t tolerate most anti-nausea drugs like Zofran or Compazine very well (and probably also because months of endless nausea dampened my spirits some), the oncologist put me on another drug called Remeron. Remeron is an antidepressant that also happens to hit the same receptors as Zofran, controlling nausea and stimulating appetite, and boy does that shit work. Remeron + Xalkori + treatment-induced premature menopause has proven to be some sort of unholy trinity of weight gain. (I’ll also cop to a fair amount of chocolate, because, you know, I have fucking lung cancer, and I’m not thrilled about that and chocolate helps sometimes – but I swear it hasn’t been crazy quantities.) Since March, I’ve gained about 50 lbs. For those of you bad at math, that means I’m currently tipping the scales at close to 180 lbs. That’s almost 20lbs more than I was 9 mos. pregnant! WHAT THE WHAT?!?! I had fooled myself for months, avoiding scales and wearing stretchy clothing. But, when the stretchy stuff got tight, I couldn’t hide from the truth any longer. Another myth busted: not all cancer patients wear head scarves, and not all of us look emaciated either. My yoga pants were crying uncle.

I tried to go off the Remeron, but both times I tried, the vomiting returned. I’ve tried to replace it with other drugs and treatments (yes, I’ve tried pretty much anything you’re thinking of recommending to me, and at least half a dozen you haven’t heard of yet), and nothing works except the one that’s intent on fattening me up like a Thanksgiving turkey.

And I have to tell you, I do not cope well with nausea and vomiting. I curl up on the floor and cry. Unfortunately, weighing 180 also makes me want to curl up on the floor and cry. So … shit. I’m trying to pull up my big, progressive feminist panties and get over it. I should be glad I have an ass at all these days, right? Who cares the size? Shouldn’t cancer help me get past this horribly vain, annoying, trivial concern?

Unbelievably, it does not. I hate, hate, hate that I’m still struggling with my weight and body image when I KNOW better. But, there it is. The 1001st reason cancer sucks -> cancer treatment can make you fat. It’s just another way cancer has caused me to lose control; first I lost control of my body on the inside, and then I lost control of the outside, too. I feel self-conscious and uncomfortable and I sincerely worry that I’ll be a less sympathetic patient to save, or less appealing advocate for my cause.

I’m trying not to let it stop me from living a fulfilling life though. I’ve taken my extra large self to Bikram yoga classes over a dozen times recently. I watched my son become a bar mitzvah a couple of weeks ago, and I get to be the tooth fairy for my daughter tonight. And brace yourselves people, because this fat ass is about to saddle up and resume teaching indoor cycle classes again very soon.

Thank goddess the teacher’s bike faces away from the mirrors.

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Each year in the US, more than 228,000 people are diagnosed with lung cancer, and nearly 160,000 die of the disease.  Many are surprised to learn that the majority of those diagnosed with lung cancer are non-smokers.  Nearly 80% of new lung cancer cases are former and never smokers. Lung cancer is the second leading cause of all deaths in the US and by far the leading cause of cancer death among both men and women yet it is the least funded cancer in terms of research dollars per death of all the major cancers.

Lisa’s hope is that her blog Every Breath I Take, will help raise awareness that lung cancer can strike anyone with lungs and that research funding, which continues to be marred by the stigma associated with the disease, will eventually increase.

The question often arises whether dietary supplements are needed to stay healthy.

While our bodies require a variety of nutrients to maintain health, the source of these nutrients is important.  As the name suggests, supplements are meant to complement a healthy diet not replace it.  Food should be our starting point because it contains a host of biologically active compounds (beyond isolated nutrients) that work together synergistically to build health, protect us from disease and enhance the absorption capacity of nutrients and phytonutrients. We don’t yet understand the full complexity of this interactive environment but we do know that it’s very difficult to replicate in a pill. …

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A while back, I received a letter from a reader.

It was written by a young woman, only 27, who was recovering from a double lung transplant that came about as a result of a lifelong illness with cystic fibrosis. She described her gratefulness for the transplant and understood how it had saved her life but that it also gave rise to an endless stream of medical complications that kept her tied to the hospital and in chronic pain.  Even the simplest tasks like doing a load of laundry or taking her dog to the park left her exhausted and defeated and filled with tears.  She spoke honestly and clearly about what hurt and I imagined her young life and the incredible weight of the physical and emotional challenges she was carrying.

The second part of her letter was even more remarkable. She explained that she didn’t want to spend the rest of her days feeling stuck and depressed and described how she was giving herself a much needed kick in the pants to get going, stop feeling sorry for herself (her words) and start making some changes in her life, including her diet. I didn’t know her personally but I do know that most of us feel sorry for ourselves for far less and it struck me that to have this level of self-awareness and determination amidst the gravity and complexity of her situation was incredibly courageous.

She didn’t ask me for anything.  She reached out merely to thank me for doing what I do and described her action plan to head to the grocery store in the morning to buy ingredients to try some new recipes.  It amazed me that with everything she had going on that she found the time and precious energy to write. We had a back-and-forth about life, nutrition and her love of writing.  She described some of the complexities of her illness on the dietary side, the biggest challenges that lay ahead and the goals she had set out to achieve them.  I asked her if she would consider sharing her story on Inspired Edibles in case it might be helpful to others who were living with their own challenges.  She was very keen and enthusiastic about it.  I had never posted anything like it before on the blog and I wasn’t entirely sure how to introduce it at the time but the seed was planted.

As life rolled along and I continued to mull over how to incorporate personal stories like this, Annie was never far from my thoughts.  This past Friday evening I started writing her a note to get an update and to see if she might still be keen to write and it was then that I came upon the sad news of her passing.  I wish I could say that I had a poised response but I didn’t; it hit me hard and as I read the beautiful words written in her obituary, I imagined her family’s grief but also felt their joy and gratitude in having been surrounded by Annie’s kind, spirited and giving nature during her short life.

Although Annie’s story isn’t written here today in her own words, I wanted to honor her, however inadequately, with mine.  Our stories are what unite us. They are what bring us together in our grief, our joy, our confusion and our fear. They offer us hope and love, companionship and support.  They can also bring us some much needed perspective and act as a source of healing both for those sharing and those receiving.

So to dear Annie, I want you to know how profoundly you have touched my life and have given me every reason to open up my blog to personal stories such as your own.  I don’t know what shape this might take over time or the full lessons we might learn from each other along the way, I only know that I needed to start.

Who doesn’t love fall… the season of woodland walks, misty mornings and harvest moons; the season of wind-lashed cheeks, warming soup and crackling fires; the season of apple picking, color gazing and leaf crunching (not to mention the ever popular feijoa).

And yet among these familiar marvels, comes an unnamed internal shift; one that can sometimes leave us feeling a sense of loss, agitation and general malaise.  One that is not always easy to describe but is nevertheless felt. This is because the change of seasons doesn’t merely alter what’s going on outside our windows, it can also have a profound effect on what’s going on inside of each of us – our mood, motivation, energy levels, sleep patterns and diets. …

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It’s no fun being sick.  We’ve all experienced the nasty symptoms that can accompany a cold or flu and know how difficult it can be to carry out our day to day functions. Reoccurring and enduring illness can also impact our ability to care for our loved ones and manage our work responsibilities.

By building a strong immune system, we put ourselves in the best position to stay well during flu season and lessen the frequency and duration of illness when it does set in.

Beyond exercising appropriate personal hygiene (our first defense against colds and flu), here are some of my favorite strategies for staying healthy through the long winter months. …

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I broke my wrist on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon in the park.  I was doing backflips off the monkey bars with my boys and I might have gotten carried away. I over-rotated the landing and was heading right for my tush (which is what I should have let happen) but instead, I stretched out my hand to protect my fall and landed with the full force of my weight on my wrist — my bone didn’t stand a chance.

Refusal to grow up aside, the incident (which happened a few years ago) reminded me of just how disabling it can be to break a bone.

Although bone mass generally peaks somewhere in our twenties, that’s not the end of the story.  Bones are not the fixed, lifeless structures we sometimes imagine.  Instead, they are growing, living tissue that is constantly being remodeled and there’s plenty to do – at all ages – to help preserve bone integrity, improve bone strength and minimize our risk of fracture. …

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